


Homesick

by Serenity59



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Historical References, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenity59/pseuds/Serenity59
Summary: Occasionally, the enormity of the time that's passed between the world they knew and the one they live in hits them like a wave. Nicky is homesick for a life that exists only in the past, and Joe is there for him.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 176





	Homesick

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Drop me a prompt at Tumblr: tenaciouspeacesandwich .

Sometimes, Joe and Nicky would get homesick. That in itself sounded strange, even to them, especially since they’d never really had a consistent home. It wasn’t the place specifically, though, rather, the people and the world they grew up knowing. Surviving through the ages meant having a front-row seat as everything you once knew crumbled to dust, only to be built back up again as something completely different. Most of the time, it happened slowly, gradually, so that they almost didn’t notice.

But every now and again, the enormity of change and loss hit them with an astounding force, and they couldn’t help but miss the world that people now would only read about in history books. 

Joe knew the look in Nicky’s eyes when he got homesick; he had memorized it by now. So, when he saw the man sitting up against the windowpane of their hotel room in Paris, he simply wrapped his arms around Nicky from behind and rested his head on his shoulder, sighing. “Nile and Andy are going for a walk later. Do you want to join them?” Joe asked quietly, rubbing his palms up and down against Nicky’s chest. 

Nicky shook his head, leaning into Joe’s embrace as he stared out at the city below them. “Do you remember your mother?” He asked suddenly, voice very soft and faraway. 

Joe smiled against his neck, nodding ever so slightly. “Of course,” he replied fondly, “I don’t think anyone can forget their mother… No matter how long it’s been.”

The corners of Nicky’s lips twitched upwards, and he laced his fingers with Joe’s. “My mother wanted me to be a shepherd like my father,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “she said I was gentle like a lamb, so I would be the best at keeping to a flock.”

Joe felt his heart swell at that, squeezing his beloved’s hand. It was true, Nicolo had the most gentle soul he’d ever come across. It never failed to amaze him, his capacity for kindness and empathy. “She was right,” Joe remarked casually, “you would be rather good at it. Animals love you.”

Nicky huffed at that, green eyes rolling to meet Joe’s with a playful gaze. “Not all animals. Remember your horse, the one you rode in Byzantium?”

Joe couldn’t stifle the chuckle that escaped from his throat, remembering how Nicky would curse aloud the many times his stallion nipped at him for no reason or tried to buck him off the saddle. “Ah, that horse,” he laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of Nicky’s affectionately, “you’re right, he didn’t like you.”

“Mmh.” 

A beat of silence passed between them, the breeze of late spring drifting through the open balcony window next to them, billowing the sheer curtains lazily. 

“My father hated that.” Nicky exhaled deeply, leaning his head on Joe’s shoulder, “Whenever my mother praised me. He said I was too soft, that it wouldn’t serve me well in life. I still remember listening to them fight about it in the house; my father would say,  _ “Adaleta, a Genoan ought to know how to slaughter a lamb without nicking the meat, not coddle it.” _ ... My mother’s name was Adaleta.” He said the last part in a whisper, as though the name itself was sacred and speaking it might taint its beauty. 

Joe frowned slightly, feeling a tightness in his chest as he watched Nicky’s eyes shimmer. There were no words to offer. He could only hold him, arms firm yet tentative across his chest.

“I never knew what happened to her.” Nicky breathed, swallowing thickly as he remembered in vivid detail the face of his mother as she smiled at him, her sea-glass green eyes an exact copy of his own. That was 936 years ago. Now, she only existed in his mind, her body probably having lain in a grave somewhere for hundreds of years before even her bones turned to dust, disappearing into the earth forever. 

He buried his face in the crook of Joe’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and incense. Joe was the only living thing on the planet who remembered the world he knew. It was a small detail that was just one of the thousands of reasons Nicky loved him. 

“Do you remember what Paris looked like when we first visited together?” Joe broke the mournful silence, his voice carrying an air of amusement to it.

Nicky nodded, unable to keep the half-smile off his face. “3 years after we met… It was our ‘honeymoon’.”

He felt Joe’s chest rumble in that low laughter. “It really was,” he affirmed, “and I was so disappointed when we got here. I’d heard only stories of it, of how its landscape was beautiful. I wanted to take you somewhere magnificent, and when we rode into the city square, they were holding a public execution.”

Nicky knew he shouldn’t laugh at such morbidity, but the absurdness of the situation made him chuckle anyway. He remembered how hard Joe had tried to impress him in those early years, even though by that time Nicky was already so in love with the man. 

“Don’t laugh,” Joe protested half-heartedly, poking Nicky playfully in the stomach, “I felt like a fool! All I wanted was to surprise you.”

Nicky turned to look at him, holding Joe’s hands tightly in his own, and staring into the brown eyes that held his past, present, and future. “You continue to surprise me, Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” he said softly, speaking his name reverently, “and I thank God that he’s allowed me to spend a single day with you, let alone a million.” 

Their lips met in a gentle, patient kiss that held nothing but love. 


End file.
